


the rest of the world was black and white (but we were in screaming color)

by forbiddenquill



Category: Faking It (TV 2014)
Genre: F/F, Soulmates AU, and those said colors go away when your soulmate dies, the soulmate au where you get to see colors when you meet your soulmate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-26
Updated: 2014-12-26
Packaged: 2018-03-03 00:54:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2832302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forbiddenquill/pseuds/forbiddenquill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Amy's never believed in soul mates before. </p><p>But that was before she met Karma.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the rest of the world was black and white (but we were in screaming color)

**Author's Note:**

> Soulmate AU: The world is black and white before you meet your soulmate and when your soulmate dies, the world goes back to black and white.

You try to smile.

 

But the crowds are pressed against you and you can’t breathe. The lights are dazzling and as bright as stars but it hurts your eyes. Shane is laughing, the sound of youth and freedom but he’s clutching at your arm so tightly that he leaves bruises. You’ve never liked concerts before; they all seem to public and you’ve never liked having strangers pressed against you in all sides. You’ve never liked it before and you’re probably never going to like it for the rest of your life.

 

You lean up on Shane and shout into his ear, saying that you have to go to the bathroom to wash off the sweat of teenage rebellion from your skin. He laughs and finally (you sigh in relief) lets go of your arm. You squeeze your way out of the concert, thinking about how you might want some coffee on the way back home. Shane won’t miss you. He’s already too busy making out with some random dude who’s rubbing his hands all over his skin. Shane probably won’t even remember your name.

 

You leave the bar, nodding to a bunch of classmates lounging in the street, smoking cigarettes and passing around a flask. They smile and look away, already forgetting about your existence. It should sting but it doesn’t; you’re used to it.

 

Coffee. Right. Your mouth waters at the thought of inhaling something warm in this cold night. A cup of coffee would be good, even though there’s only enough cash in your pocket for bus fare. Shane drove you here. You don't have your car. You need the bus fare but the hunger overpowers your reasoning and you hike up your jacket and start walking into the direction of the nearest coffee shop.

 

You can see your own breath as you exhale and you frown, thinking about school and other stupid responsibilities tomorrow. Somehow, life is no longer easy. It’s no longer a piece of cake. You find yourself pressured with college applications and your grades and your mom breathing down your neck. You wonder how come your stepsister Lauren isn’t getting all worked up—she is, after all, the Class President. And yet, whenever you come home from Shane’s house, she’s curled up next to her boyfriend on the couch, watching a movie that you’ve probably watched a hundred times already.

 

You envy her but there’s no way in hell you’re going to say that out loud.

 

You see the coffee shop up ahead and quicken your pace. You can practically hear the hipsters picturing their lattes in order to upload it to Instagram later. The image makes you laugh as you approach the doorway. It’s nice, laughing and smiling, when you’re alone in the city with nothing but your freezing hands and loose change.

 

Up ahead, a petite young girl with her hands shoved in the pockets of her sweater, approaches the doorway the same time you do. You’re still smiling when you reach out to grab the doorknob but the other girl gets there first.

 

Her hand is warm.

 

You look up.

 

And everything changes.

 

.

 

Her name is Karma and she is your soul mate.

 

.

 

You’re not too sure what to say. Karma seems vaguely interested in her coffee, often stirring the spoon over and over again, humming something under her breath. She hasn’t looked you in the eye since. Sure, you’re a bit surprised that your soul mate is a girl but that doesn’t discourage you. If Fate has conspired the two of you to be together then there must be a chance. Or at least a reason.

 

You tap your finger against the surface of the table. Your cup sits untouched in front of you but you currently don’t have the stomach to swallow anything. You feel like you’ll puke if you so much as sip a small amount of water.

 

There are stories about finding your soul mate. You’ve often brushed them off, not too devoted or interested in looking for someone else. You’ve heard of people seeing what they call “colors”—something they describe as wonderful as a newborn baby. The analogy makes you suspicious but you keep your mouth shut. You’ve never expected to find your soul mate; you’ve never expected to actually see these said colors.

 

Until now.

 

You look down at your hands. They seem strange—they seem lively and new. Peculiar but unique. You try to find the words to describe them but you can’t. All you can come up with is that they are a lighter shade than Karma’s hands, which are wrapped around her coffee mug.

 

You glance over at her. Again, you try to find the words but they seem useless at this point. Your eyes look at her, staring at the curve of her lips and the freckles against her cheeks. You drink all of her in; wondering why on the universe just went and said, “You know what? I want those two to be soul mates.”

 

Soul mates, you think to yourself, your mouth going dry. Such a twist in fate.

 

“Amy,” Karma says suddenly, locking eyes with you.

 

Your heart skips a beat. God, your name on her lips sounds like an angel singing.

 

“Yes?” you ask.

 

“What does this mean for us?”

 

You don’t know what to answer. Hell, you’re not even sure if you want this.

 

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you answer, “It means this is fate.”

 

You wonder if she realizes that you didn’t answer her question.

 

.

 

You try to walk away but then Karma grabs you by the hand and asks for your number. She’s determined, you realize when her eyes refuse to leave your face. You feel as if she’s memorizing your features inch by inch and you can’t help but do the same. You wonder if this might probably be the last time you’ll see her but that seems unlikely. Who would want to walk away from their own soul mate?

 

You accept her phone, type in your number and pass it back to her. Your fingers brush and your eyes linger. You want to say something that’ll diffuse the tension but Karma is already tucking her phone into her pocket and looking away. She’s chewing on her lower lip.

 

It kind of makes you want to kiss her.

 

It kind of makes you wish you had left a better impression.

 

.

 

You don’t talk about Karma to your friends or to your family members but oh God, your eyes—your eyes have never seen such beauty in this world before.

 

.

 

A few days later, Karma texts you first. She wants to know if you want to watch a movie—a chance to start over on a first date.

 

You accept without a moment’s pause.

 

.         

 

The two of you watch the latest horror movie available. A bag of popcorn separates you both. Karma’s arm is brushing against yours and you try not to think about the way she smells like roses. You try not to think about the way she laughs and she screams and the way she clutches wildly at your hand, holding on for dear life. Even though you’re just strangers at this point, you can’t help but feel as if there are layers and layers of friendship and connection between the two of you. You can’t help but feel as if you’ve known Karma your whole life.

 

After the movie, you go out for dinner at McDonalds. She orders burger and fries. You order ice cream. As you talk and try to get to know each other, you watch her bright hair, her dark eyes and the smile that seems to light up the place. McDonalds already has lively surroundings but with Karma in the center of it—well, it feels like you’re watching the biggest brightest star in the middle of the universe.

 

You learn that she’s studying in another school rather than Hester. You learn that she likes to binge-watch popular TV shows and that her favorite hobby is to write songs in her Calculus notebooks. You learn that she’s always believed in finding her soul mate and that she would’ve never guessed that it would be you.

 

The last comment stings a bit but then Karma laughs apologetically and reaches out for your hand, her fingers clutching yours like a vice. Her smile is dripping with constellations. You watch her with awe and fear.

 

“I didn’t mean it like that,” she says gently, “You and I—well, we’re just so different.”

 

You’ve noticed. She seems so happy, so vibrant, and so energetic. Next to her, you act like a walking corpse.

 

When you don’t say anything, she continues relentlessly, “Your hair is really bright, by the way. I don’t know what color it is or what’s called but I think it’s beautiful.”

 

“Describe it,” you find yourself saying.

 

Karma’s lips twitch. “Do you know the sunflower?” You nod. “Well, they call it sunflower because it follows the sun, right? Well, I saw one on the way to school and it was the first time I saw its true colors. I can’t say the word—I’m an idiot, I guess—but I looked at it then I looked up at the sky and I saw the sun for a few seconds before it hurt my eyes and it was in that moment where I realized that your hair—it’s like the sun. It’s bright and shiny and sometimes, when I look at you, it hurts.”

 

It feels as if your heart has died a bit but you smile and say, “Ditto.”

 

Karma lets go of your hand and dips her fries into your ice cream. When you laugh and do the same, you feel that familiarity again and it makes your chest tingle.

 

You try to pretend that your heart isn’t beating twice as fast than it should’ve.  

 

.

 

You insist in escorting her home and Karma laughs, remarking that even though it’s only the first date, you’re already acting like a proper girlfriend. You try not to let her see the way your hands shake after that comment.

 

The drive home is quiet. The two of you listen to whatever comes on to the radio. She hums along to the tune and you drum your fingers against the wheel. Again, you recognize the familiarity and how comfortable you are with her, sitting next to her and inhaling her rosy smell. It seems like the two of you have jumped a big step from your first encounter and you wonder if it’s the same for other people who have met their soul mates. You wonder if they’ve felt the same connection you’re feeling right now.

 

You pull into her driveway, stopping the engine and listening to her breathe. You think about kissing her but it's only the frist date. Surely, there must be some kind of rules about dating your soul mates. If there is, you are clearly not oriented. You glance over at her and are surprised to find out that she's already looking at you.

 

"What does this make us?" she asks.

 

You tilt your head to the side. In the glow of her house, you can't help but admire her unsung beauty. Your eyes revel in the way hers are glowing and somewhere inside your chest, you feel your heart beating loudly, like a drumbeat that can't be hindered.

 

"What do you mean?" you ask.

 

"I mean—" she lets out a sigh, laughing nervously, "This is a date, right? But I can't help but feel—"

 

"Karma," you say and for a moment, you both stop. This is the first time you've said her name out loud.

 

"Yeah?" Her voice shakes slightly.

 

You reach out and clasp her hand, smiling at her. "This makes us soul mates. Well, first degree anyway."

 

"Think we can reach second degree?" Karma jokes.

 

"I think we should go on a second date first," you answer and she laughs. You decide that you like her laugh. It makes your chest tingle.

 

Later, she gets out of the car and you walk her to the door. You silently thank Shane for dragging you into that concert because you know that if he hadn't, you wouldn't have met Karma. And right now, it seems as if Karma is a God given gift.

 

"Thanks for the movie," you tell her.

 

"It's not a problem," she says, leaning against her doorway.

 

You stare at her bright hair, her dark eyes and her colorful dress. You don't know what they're called but you do know that they make Karma more beautiful. You wish you knew what their names are though. There is a certain magic in knowing.

 

"I hope this isn't the last time we'll see each other," you murmur.

 

Karma smiles and it lights up her eyes. "You have my number, right? Call whenever you're bored."

 

"I shouldn't. I'm bored all the time."

 

She laughs again. You decide that her laugh is the most beautiful sound you have ever heard.

 

"I'll see you around then," she says.

 

"You too," you say.

 

She surprises you by leaning forward and pecking your cheek. Your cheeks warm and you mutter a few incoherent words before she laughs again and wraps her arms around your neck, running her fingers against the nape of your neck. You hesitate for half a second before wrapping your arms around her body. She smells sweet, like a garden full of roses and you inhale her scent as if it's the only oxygen left in the world.

 

She pulls away and hurries inside. You glimpse a blush in her cheeks before she shuts the door and you're left alone with your rapid beating heart.

 

.

 

Your first kiss happens inside your room.

 

You've been dating for a few weeks now and sometimes, it feels as if you're skittering around each other. You know what you want but you are fearful. You wonder if she has the same fear you have in your chest--the fear that you two aren't soul mates, the fear that the universe made a mistake in pairing you up.

 

Your whole family knows that you have a soul mate. Your step-father doesn't care much, Lauren is curious but doesn't show it, your mom is a bit disappointed Karma's not a boy but she's happy that you at least have a soul mate. You find out that you don't give a fuck about what they think but you do know that you give a fuck about what Karma thinks about them.

 

So when your mom says that you should invite Karma over, you don't know what to say.

 

"I think it's a great idea," Karma says when you tell her.

 

 You nervously drum your fingers against her leg. She reaches over and calms your hand. You're both sitting in your car and Bastille is singing through the radio. Karma's hair is tied in a ponytail. There are freckles around her neck. Your eyes often drift towards her collarbone.

 

"It's only been a few weeks," you murmur.

 

"Amy Raudenfeld," Karma says exasperatedly, "Are you embarrassed of me?"

 

"What? No way." You touch her cheek. "You're perfect."

 

"Now you're just teasing me," she says.

 

You lean forward and kiss her forehead. When you pull away, her eyes are fluttered shut.

 

"You're awesome," you whisper, "and it's totally your choice if you want to go."

 

Karma looks at you, determination plain in her face. You know her answer even before she opens her mouth.

 

.

 

Lauren wants to know how you two met—even though she asks in a rude manner. It's obvious that she doesn't want to look like she's curious or that she cares but there's no helping it. You know that she and Tommy aren't soul mates—she doesn't know what the color of his eyes look like and you know that she's scared.

 

You tell her to dump Tommy and move on. He's an asshole, after all. And they're not meant to be together.

 

.

 

The doorbell rings. Mom smooths out her dress and approaches the door. You glance over at the clock, seeing that Karma's right on time. Bruce is still frying the bacon. Lauren is upstairs fixing her hair. And you're sitting at the living room and trying not to puke. You don't want Karma to see that you're nervous but you can't help it, especially when Mom's stopped wishing for grand kids. You hope that she won't be able to see the way your fingers are shaking.

 

Mom is all smiles and gracious hugs when she sees Karma standing outside the doorway. You stand up from the couch, your stomach flipping when you see that she's wearing a bright floral dress. The color matches with your shirt and you think that she's the most beautiful person you've ever seen.

 

"Hi," Karma says, blushing as she steps closer towards you.

 

"Hi," you say.

 

Before you can tell her that she looks beautiful, Mom is already ushering you to the dining room where Bruce has already set up the plates. You hear Lauren coming down the stairs and you look at your small dysfunctional family and you think that yeah, maybe this dinner date won't be so bad.

 

.

 

"That wasn't so bad," you say as you lead Karma to your bedroom.

 

Karma tightens her hold on your hand. "Told you," she says, smiling. "I have a gifted skill in charisma."

 

"Mom loved you," you tell her, opening the door and stepping inside. Karma follows. "I didn't think that it'd be possible but yeah, she loved you. People surprise you, I guess."

 

You go around and try to tide your room, even though it's already neat. All of the college brochures have been shoved under your bed and your laptop is showing an episode of _How To Get Away With Murder_. Your notebooks and textbooks have been piled on top of your study table. You try not to let Karma see the mess you always make.

 

She sits on your bed and you sit next to her. Almost like a routine, you reach out and hold her hand.

 

"Thanks," you say. And you mean it.

 

Karma smiles. "It wasn't hard," she tells you, "They're pretty okay." She pauses, gathering her thoughts. "Well, your step-father was a bit opinionated and Lauren was—tsk, I don't know—"

 

"A bitch?" you supply and she gives you a look. You laugh, touching her knees. "It's okay. You can say it."

 

"Fine, she was a bitch," Karma admits.

 

"There. That wasn't so hard, right?" 

 

Karma bites her lower lip as she smiles. You grin, because goddamn—she is so ridiculously beautiful and your chest hurts. You stare at her cheeks, which seems to have turned into another shade of color. You realize that she's blushing (thank god for colors) and that she's looking at you strangely. It reminds you of the way your mom looks at Bruce sometimes or the way Lauren looks at Tommy when they think that they're alone. And it feels as if you can't breathe again.

 

Then she leans forward and kisses you. You open your mouth immediately, reaching out and wrapping your arms around her neck. She touches your cheeks, your neck, your hair and you laugh because it feels as if she just can't stop touching you. It does feel nice though, having somebody to kiss and to talk to and to laugh with. Karma seems perfect and you thank the universe because you know--you just know that the universe didn't make a mistake.

 

She pulls away and bumps noses with yours. Your foreheads touch and you don't recall a time where you've felt so content before.

 

"I've wanted to do that for a while now," she says, grinning.

 

"Me too," you murmur against her lips.

 

Her hand finds yours and you hold on. Then she kisses you again, her mouth as sweet as the apples you ate this morning. Your heart refuses to slow down and you’re pretty sure that Karma can hear it.

 

.

 

At first, you can’t find the words to describe her. Her hair is the color of the apples that fall from the tree but it’s also the color of the blood that leaks out of your finger when you get a paper cut. Her eyes remind you of the similar shade of the grass that crunches underneath your feet when you walk to school but it’s also the color of the butterfly’s wings you find hanging under a leaf on the way home. And sometimes, when you’re lying in bed and you’re thinking about her smile, it reminds you of tasting honey for the first time because it’s sweet and it makes your heart tingle and you wonder how you could’ve ever survived your seventeen years of life without seeing that smile.

 

It’s hard to find the words but through time and patience, you find and learn them anyway. You learn that her hair is a mystical shade of red and that red often represents love and beauty. You learn that her eyes are a dark Irish green and that green is often associated with nature. You learn that everything about her is absolutely beautiful and that when people ask you how your girlfriend is, you learn to say, “She’s great; she’s beautiful.”

 

And you learn that you are in love with her, in every way possible.

 

.

“You sure do have a lot of college applications,” Karma says as she checks your table.

 

Your heartbeat picks up. “Well, yeah. My mom wants me to have this super cool college education and shit,” you say casually, trying not to let her see the panic in your eyes. She picks up a Yale brochure, tilting her head to the side as she reads the words stamped there. You approach her carefully, not wanting to disturb.

 

She looks up to you, green eyes bright. “Where do you want to go?” she asks.

 

You touch her shoulder and set the brochure down. “I don’t know,” you say simply.

 

She must see the sadness in your eyes because she leans forward and kisses you, her lips like a drug you possibly cannot get over. You kiss her back, your heart drumming loudly inside your chest. She touches your shoulder, your face, your waist and you hold her tightly, not wanting to let go.

 

You lean against the table and she towers over you, kissing every bit of skin her lips can touch.  You feel warm and your fingers are shaking as they settle on her waist. She’s smiling and you can’t help but smile back. How come it’s always Karma who knows how to calm you down, who knows how to cheer you up? Again, you wonder how you could’ve ever spent seventeen years without her. Maybe you were just waiting for her.

 

“Amy?” she says against your neck.

 

“Hmm?” you mumble.

 

“You’ll get accepted in every single one of them,” she says, “but you should go to Stanford.”

 

You pull back, frowning in confusion. “Why?” you ask.

 

She smiles, pulls you close again. You try to steady your breathing but you’re basically panting. Her lips move against your cheek, your neck, your collarbone.  “Because I have a full scholarship there.”

 

Later that night, you throw away all the other college brochures and look up Stanford on your laptop.

 

You can’t stand the thought of going to college without Karma by your side.

 

.

 

“I love you, by the way,” you tell her after an afternoon spent together watching old romance movies and listening to each other breathe. You’re lying against her chest and she’s running her fingers through your golden hair, untangling the knots and smoothing down the curls. She’s humming under her breath but when she hears those words, she stops and her hand stills.

 

You can feel her smiling behind you, though.

 

“Do you now?” she says playfully.

 

For a moment, your heart has stopped beating. You scold yourself for being so goddamn stupid. You shouldn’t have said the words out loud; now they’re out in the open and you can’t get them back. You’ve only been going out for a year—surely, that’s not enough time to say the three words.

 

You expect Karma to laugh but she doesn’t. You expect her to say something to break your heart but she doesn’t. Instead, she gently pushes your hair aside and runs her fingers against the exposed skin of your neck. You shiver and goose bumps break out all over your arms. Your breath catches in your throat when Karma leans over and kisses the top of your head.

 

“Come over here,” she murmurs against your hair.

 

You sit up and turn towards her. She’s looking at you strangely again—the same way she had looked at you before she kissed you for the first time. You kind of want her to keep looking at you like that because it makes you feel wanted, makes you feel _loved_.

 

You crawl over towards where she’s sitting and tuck yourself between her legs. She grabs your face and kisses you once more, her lips soft and yielding. Your heart melts alongside your internal organs. You stay like that for a few more minutes, intertwined in each other’s embrace. Your heart rapidly beats faster when Karma’s hand strays to the crook of your elbow and she starts whispering your name against the skin of your neck and you know—God, you just know—that you will love her for the rest of your life, even if there comes a time where she might not love you back.

 

You kiss her on the lips again. There is something intoxicating about her smell and the taste of her mouth and the way she’s holding onto you for dear life. There is something addicting about her, something that you just can’t snuff away.

 

You try to sit up to get more leverage but the two of you end up bumping elbows and colliding knees. Karma pulls away and lets out a hearty laugh. You try to hide the blush in your cheeks as you laugh along with her. The laughter dies away when your hands come in contact with the exposed skin of her stomach. Karma’s green eyes darken with lust and mischief and before you can say something, she pulls you in and kisses you so hard that for a moment, you can’t breathe. Then the moment passes and she pulls your shirt over your head and somehow, her blouse is gone half a minute later. There is nothing between your chests except for your bras so Karma impatiently unclasps them off. You laugh at her impatience and when she turns to look at you, you lean forward and kiss her again, because she is so beautiful and so bright and so full of colors that it would seem like a sin not to indulge her.

 

Her hand touches the waistband of your jeans. You suck in a deep breath, looking at her carefully, staring at the red shade of her hair, at the hazy green in her eyes, at her flushed pink cheeks. Everything seems suddenly real somehow—like somebody has just flipped on the HD edition for a video.

 

“Are you sure?” you ask, your voice shaking.

 

Karma’s face softens. She smiles—and it’s a dazzling smile.

 

“Yes,” she answers simply and you let yourself go.

 

You kiss her like it’s your last chance. You touch her the way someone touches a fine piece of art—with awe, with reverence, with fear. You look at her the way any girl wants to be looked at. And the two of you love the way teenagers often love—with a reckless abandon that seems either foolish or brave.

 

You’re so lost in her smell you can’t tell between the two.

 

Her hands are all over your skin. Her pale, plump lips are leaving hickeys all over your throat. Her thighs and legs are tangled with your own. It’s messy. It’s beautiful.

 

It’s _love_.

 

You’re so absorbed in her that you don’t realize she’s saying something until she repeats it a third time, a hint of exasperation in her tone. You stop kissing her collarbone and look up, breathing all of her in. She’s looking at you with determination and if you have to be honest with yourself, it scares you a bit.

 

“Wait, what?” you ask.

 

“Dork,” she mutters under her breath but she takes your face between her hands and presses her lips against yours. You make a sound and she smiles. Even with your eyes closed, you know that her smile is still beautiful. Everything about her is ridiculously beautiful.

 

She pulls away. “I said,” she murmurs against your lips, “I love you too.”

 

You’ve never cared to love somebody this much before. Sure, you have your mom but that kind of relationship is different. It’s necessary and you don’t have a choice. You have Shane and your other friends but they have other affairs, other things to think about rather than you. With Karma, it’s _different_. Every part of your body loves her, even though she might not put you first or she might put you last. You love her even though she pains you sometimes. But maybe that’s what love is—pain. Pain that you want over and over again.

 

You kiss her, murmuring ‘I love you’ over and over and spend the night wrapped in her arms.

 

.

 

You never thought you could lose the colors.  

 

You never thought you could lose _her._

But it must make sense—after spending nearly sixty years together. Nothing lasts forever. At least you got to love her while she was young and while she was old. At least you got to love her when she was cranky and when she was mad and when she was happy. At least you got to see your life together in colors. At least you got to start a family while there was still time to see what your child’s eye color was. At least she didn’t get to experience what it was like not to have colors again.

 

But the same can’t be said for you.

 

You wake up tired and aching. There is something wrong. You know, even before you take your glasses off the shelf. You know, even before you put them on. Karma’s not here (she’s off visiting your grandchildren) but you know something’s wrong.

 

When you see the black and white shades of the world, it feels like the weight of the world has been dropped on your shoulders.

 

“Oh, Karma,” you say to no one in particular.

 

The phone rings on the bedside table. You reach out and answer it.

 

“Mom?” your daughter says. She sounds as if she’s been crying. “Mom—I don’t know what ha—”

 

“I know,” you tell her. Your voice drops to a whisper. “I know.”

 

For the first time in a long time, you find yourself alone without any colors.

 

( _Karma_?)

 

And it’s horrible.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to Jessy [dangerdonut on tumblr] because's awesome and I really look up to her. Plus, she bashes on Gregg Sulkin so that's a win-win.


End file.
